The French Connection
by Lily5
Summary: Begins mid-Bargaining. The spell works, but Buffy wakes up...somewhere else.
1. Part 1

Untitled Document 

Title: The French Connection  
Author: Lily  
Rating: PG to PG-13  
Spoilers: Bargaining, but really only part one  
Disclaimer: pshaw. not mine.  
Summary: Yes, the resurrection worked. But no, it didn't wake Buffy up where she last was (that part seems to have gotten messed up, no?)...  
Author's Note: *la la la* denotes Buffy thoughts

Thanks to Karen, the supercool "beta personage" LOL  


The tower rose high into the air, but Buffy, in its shadow, could not see it. She knew her eyes were open, but everything was in a very dark haze. Just to be sure, she felt her face with her hands. Her rough palms left a sticky residue, and it stung her hands like falling off a bike.

*Blood*

*Where am I?*

Breathing in deeply, she did a conscious check for all of her body parts, and she realized that she was lying face down on cold pavement.

*I fell*

Painfully pressing her raw palms onto the dirty ground, she heaved herself up, testing her legs. Taking a step, Buffy wobbled on her pointy heels. Looking down, she could barely see the shoes.

*Can see. Kind of.*

Buffy looked up, seeing a kaleidoscope of twinkling, blurry lights in the distance. The empty street in front of her was clear enough, but she couldn't see a yard beyond her nose. She started to walk.

Slowly, she came out from under the shadow of the tower and had to close her eyes for a minute. The lights were blinding. As Buffy realized that she was on a street corner, she also started to hear.

*Loud!*

She attempted to process all of the sounds. Shoes clicking. Laughter. Voices. Turning, she made out the shapes of people--lots of them, walking quickly around her, not looking at her. Buffy heard the voices clearly, but she realized that although she could hear the sounds, they made no sense to her. The noises were familiar, but she didn't understand them. All alone, struggling to remain standing, Buffy began to cry as she kept walking.

Her legs wobbled less, but her hands were shaking and the tears were still falling down her cheeks. She continued on, trying not to knock into the passing figures. She bumped into one of them. Strange noises came out of the blurred shape. So loud. She pressed her ripped hands to her ears and moved on, faster.

Buffy spun around when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Another indistinct figure stood in front of her. Her eyes focused first on the tower silhouetted in the background. She recognized the tall structure from somewhere. It made words pop into her head.

*Eiffel Tower*

The shape in front of her spoke, and she was surprised. She understood the words.

"Buffy? Buffy, it's me, Oz."

**end one** 


	2. Part 2a

Untitled Document 

Title: The French Connection  
Author: Lily  
Rating: PG to PG-13  
Spoilers: Bargaining, but really only part one  
Disclaimer: pshaw. not mine.  
Summary: Yes, the resurrection worked. But no, it didn't wake Buffy up where she last was (that part seems to have gotten messed up, no?)...  
Author's Note: *la la la* denotes Buffy thoughts  


Oz had been sitting in one of the sidewalk cafes for which Paris was so famous. With nowhere that he had to be, having some coffee after dinner could become an activity that lasted for hours. The cafes were one of Oz's favorite things in Paris--he loved sitting at a table outside and just watching the people pass. Some walked very quickly; the ones with places to be and people to meet. They walked with their heads down...probably more aerodynamic. Others walked in groups, speaking loudly in the French that you don't learn in school. The groups tended to take more time in getting places, and Oz had more time to study every face, from the ones in front that he could only think of as the alphas, to the quiet ones in back. The couples walked the slowest, but Oz didn't look at them. 

"Monsieur, avez-vous fini?" The waiter had approached his table and was blocking his view of the street. 

"Oui..." Oz nodded absent-mindedly, not concentrating. A familiar smell was tickling the back of his throat. Home...but not. He couldn't place it. 

The waiter bent to pick up the coffee cup, and Oz's eyes followed him as he straightened. The man moved away and Oz saw the street again. Moving even more slowly than the couples, Oz noticed a patch of blond. He knew what the scent was. Buffy. She was stumbling and looked more lost than any tourist. And she was alone.

Quickly placing some money from his pocket onto the table, Oz bolted into the crowd and grabbed the slayer's shoulder. She turned slowly and looked at him. When their eyes met, he saw nothing. Emptiness. She didn't recognize him. 

"Buffy? Buffy, it's me, Oz," he tried, hoping it would jog her memory. Her eyes moved back and forth across his face, but she didn't speak. 

"Buffy, can you hear me?" 

The words floated around in her mind, not quite registering. She opened her mouth, shut it again, and started to cry even harder. Without another word, Oz gently placed a hand on the small of her back and began to lead her down the street, towards his apartment.

**end two-a** 


	3. Part 2b

Untitled Document 

Title: The French Connection  
Author: Lily  
Rating: PG to PG-13  
Spoilers: Bargaining, but really only part one  
Disclaimer: pshaw. not mine.  
Summary: Yes, the resurrection worked. But no, it didn't wake Buffy up where she last was (that part seems to have gotten messed up, no?)...  
Author's Note: *la la la* denotes Buffy thoughts  


The going was slow, and by the time they had gone ten blocks, the streets were emptying. Buffy stopped walking. 

"Come on, it's not much farther. We'll get you cleaned up..." Oz could only whisper words of encouragement and press on her back a little harder. He knew that no city was immune to creatures of the night, and he doubted that Buffy could fight. He would have been able to handle it, if not for having to worry about the woman who was, at that point, clinging to his jacket for support. 

Instead of moving forward, Buffy turned to face him, and, after looking around for a few moments, spoke. "Paris?"

Her voice was unsure, but Oz smiled at her recognition of the city. He nodded. "Paris."

"How did I get here?" 

Oz started to tell her that he didn't know, but a very distinct feeling distracted him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his eyes focused beyond Buffy's shoulder, into the dark street behind them. The light from the streetlamps bounced off his feral eyes and a dark figure confirmed what he had smelt. Vampire. Of all the rotten times for one to show up.

Buffy must have noticed, because she too turned to face the alleyway. She looked up at Oz again. He wasn't sure what she was trying to tell him. 

"Do you want to go behind that dumpster? There's only one, and I think I can take him. I have a stake." Oz nodded Buffy towards a hiding place and hoped she would be okay.

Before the he could protest, the slayer had taken off, full speed, towards the vampire. Running behind her, Oz saw the unsuspecting creature stand up to stare at the blur hurtling towards him. Oz reached them as Buffy swung her leg up to kick the vamp in the side of its head. Jolted back to reality, it brought back its arm to strike her, but Buffy grabbed the arm and twisted. Hard. Howling in pain, the vampire backed towards the wall. 

"Oz! Stake!"

Still pummeling it with one fist, Buffy reached out a hand, perfectly timed to catch the stake that Oz tossed her way. She drove the wood home and stepped back to avoid the dust. 

Turning around, she saw Oz standing against the opposite wall of the alley, hands in his pockets. "Let's go," he said softly and with a smile.

The fire of the fight faded from her eyes as she nodded.   
**end two-b**  



	4. Part 3

Untitled Document 

Title: The French Connection  
Author: Lily  
Rating: PG to PG-13  
Spoilers: Bargaining, but really only part one  
Disclaimer: pshaw. not mine.  
Summary: Yes, the resurrection worked. But no, it didn't wake Buffy up where she last was (that part seems to have gotten messed up, no?)...  
Author's Note: *la la la* denotes Buffy thoughts  


Oz took his hand off of Buffy's back once more to look for his keys. She glanced around the small third-floor landing of the apartment building. Oz turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door, holding it for her. Flipping on the lights and closing the door behind them, Oz explained, "This is actually a friend's apartment. I'm staying here while I'm in Paris...he's out of town for a while."

Extending his hand, Oz waited for Buffy to take it. She looked at it, then up at Oz, her eyes wide. She gulped and shook her head, refusing to accept the offer.

"What's the matter? Let me show you the living room, you can sit down..."

Oz stopped coaxing Buffy as she slowly brought her shaking hands up from her sides. They had been clenched for almost the entire walk. The metallic smell of blood, mixed with the scent of Buffy and fear, exploded into Oz's nostrils. Her palms were scraped raw. Long, dirty lines ran from her fingers to her wrists, apparently from skidding on the ground.

Oz gave up on the leading-by-the-hand concept and motioned for Buffy to follow him.

He led her to a small living room, bare other than a couch, a coffee table, and a television set. She sat on the sofa.

Seating himself across from her on the coffee table, Oz looked at her with concern. "Is it just your hands?"

"No...my knees. Scraped. I...I think I fell." She gingerly lifted the hem of her black dress to reveal her knees; scraped, but not so badly as her hands.

"Okay, wait here just one second. I'm going to look for a first aid kit." He stood again and left the room.

She could hear rummaging, but still felt very alone. Oz hadn't turned on the lights in the room, and the long shadows divided the walls into wide stripes. Light from the window fell on a book with a title she could not understand.

*French. In France.*

She was still studying the words when Oz walked in, arms full of bandages. He put the supplies on the table and turned on a lamp before sitting back down. The warm light and his nearness comforted Buffy, and she felt her hands stop shaking.

Without a word, Oz gently took her arm at the elbow and maneuvered her hand to lie palm-up on her thigh. Soaking a cotton ball in hydrogen peroxide, he started on her left hand. Touching the ripped skin with the cotton, even as gently as Oz was doing it, stung like nothing else. Buffy gasped. He abruptly pulled away, but she looked hum in the eyes and whispered, "I'm okay."

It was a slow process--Oz was afraid of making her hands worse. Neither spoke as he finally wrapped a bandage around her right hand, matching it to her left. "Fini."

Buffy let her hands rest in her lap. She tried to wipe her eyes with her shoulder, but more tears, in addition to those caused by pressure on her wounds, were too late to stop.

Oz looked up from capping the antiseptic to find Buffy staring at her hands, tears running down her face. She looked up and met his eyes for a moment before collapsing forward, her head landing beside his neck as she cried into his shoulder, slipping off the couch so that he was supporting all of her weight. All he could do was rub her back and let her cry.  
**end three** 


	5. Part 4

Title: The French Connection  
Author: Lily  
Rating: PG to PG-13  
Spoilers: Bargaining, but really only part one  
Disclaimer: pshaw. not mine.  
Summary: Yes, the resurrection worked. But no, it didn't wake Buffy up where she last was (that part seems to have gotten messed up, no?)...  
Author's Note: *la la la* denotes Buffy thoughts  


Bright light in her face woke Buffy up. Disoriented, she sat up and looked around. She was alone in a large bed, with the comforter pulled up to her neck. The room wasn't exactly neat, but it wasn't dirty either. And it was most definitely a guy's room.

*Why am I in a guy's room?*

She lifted up the covers just to check that she was not naked, and breathed a sigh of relief. She was in a baggy concert shirt and men's pajama pants. Still confused, but not quite so nervous, Buffy threw aside the covers and put her feet on the ground. The window blinds were Venetian, turned so morning light shone through the slats onto the floor and the bed. She made her way over, pulled the cord, and flooded the room with light. Adjusting to the sudden brightness, she peered out the window to the street scene below. 

*I'm in Paris!*

Then that she noticed the white gauze on both of her hands and remembered the night before. 

Opening the bedroom door, she stepped out into the living room. It was the same room as it had been the night before, but it felt a million times more welcoming with sunlight pouring in. Buffy took a few more steps and smiled. Stretched out on the couch was Oz. He slept soundly, still wearing his bluejeans, shirt, and socks from the night before. She approached him. He rolled over and she could see his expression. His calm face wrinkled.He sniffed the air a few times before smiling.

"Morning, Buffy," he said, eyes opening lazily. He sat up, stretching arms above his head. 

"Morning." She nodded.

"Coffee?" he asked, standing up.

"Yes please," she said emphatically, and sat on the recently vacant sofa. The kitchen was small, only separated from the living room by counter space.

*Like Giles'*

She could see him as he walked in and measured out the coffee. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked with concern from the other room. 

"Like I haven't brushed my teeth in a few months," she said, only half joking.

"Well, we can't rule it out." He smiled and placed a tea kettle on the stove. "I don't think there's an extra toothbrush around here, but feel free to use the toothpaste, and we'll get you your own later."

"Sounds like a plan." Buffy stood again and found her way to the bathroom. Peering into the mirror, she saw that the bruises on her face from the night before were fading fast. She turned the cold water faucet, and picked up the toothpaste. Flipping the cap off the tube, she squeezed some onto the tip of her index finger sticking out of the bandages. But the sound of running water distracted her. She gazed at the liquid as it splashed onto the white sink.

*It's so beautiful...*

She swallowed in awe and remembered the awful taste in her mouth. Shaking herself, she quickly ran her finger over her teeth, filled a cup with water, and smiled at the mintiness. Rinsing her mouth out, she dried her fingers on a towel and went back into the living room.

Just as she walked in, Oz came out of the kitchen. He handed her a mug of coffee.

"None for you?" she asked, taking a seat on the sofa again.

"I've stopped drinking it. I'm all about tea now." He walked back into the kitchen and returned with a cup in his hand. He set it down on the living room side of the counter and leaned back against the wall.

She looked at him expectantly.

"I'm not going to deny that I'm extremely curious as to what's going on, especially how and why you're here, but I'm not going to ask you to talk about it," he answered her look.

She sighed and took a sip of coffee. "I died."

"Oh. When?"

"I guess it was...June? Maybe." She looked at him with surprise. "What month is it now?"

"Almost October," he responded, "and almost half way around the world from Sunnydale. I'm assuming it was in Sunnydale?"

"Yeah. I'll tell you the whole story sometime...after I've finished the coffee."

"Okay." He didn't push for more, but gazed at her over the rim of the tea cup. She drank some more of the coffee and then put the mug down on the table. Unable to sit still, she turned around and knelt on the couch to look out the window. 

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Oz was almost whispering.

"I guess. It was beautiful there too," she said sadly.

"Sunnydale?"

"No. Where I was between there and here. Another there. It was beautiful there." She turned and looked at him. "Why am I not there anymore?"

**end four**  



	6. Part 5

Title: The French Connection  
Author: Lily  
Rating: PG to PG-13  
Spoilers: Bargaining, but really only part one  
Disclaimer: pshaw. not mine.  
Summary: Yes, the resurrection worked. But no, it didn't wake Buffy up where she last was (that part seems to have gotten messed up, no?)...  
Author's Note: *la la la* denotes Buffy thoughts  


The phone was on the bedside table in Oz's room. Buffy and Oz sat on the side of his bed silently, staring at it.

It was almost two, and they had both showered and changed. She only had the black dress she had found herself in, but she had thrown on one of Oz's button-down shirts over it. 

"They'll want to know that you're alive," Oz said, his eyes still on the phone.

"So I should call."

"But it's too much too soon." Oz sighed and looked at her with concern. 

"And what if I get a machine? It wouldn't be good to just leave a message: 'By the way, I'm alive.' No, you would be the one to leave a message. Just to say that Giles should call. So you should call."

"I could give the phone to you as soon as someone picks up?"

"No, I can't make you do that. What if Willow picks up?" She finally took her eyes off the phone. "Oz, you shouldn't *have* to talk to her if you don't want to."

"Okay, so I might have a little trouble talking to Willow, but it's been a very long time and I've...healed. You, on the other hand, just came back to life," he said, decided, and put an end to negotiation, "so you win in the 'most traumatic experience' category. I'll call."

"Are you sure? Because I could do it..."

"I'm calling."

Oz picked up the phone and put it in his lap. He cradled the receiver between his ear and shoulder and prepared to dial. He had gotten through the international code when he paused.

"Buffy?"

"You want me to call?"

"...I don't know what to dial."

She punched in the numbers for the Magic Box and watched him listen to the rings. 

It rang four times before Oz heard the click as someone picked up on the other end. 

"The Magic Box: All your occult needs..." It was Willow. Oz didn't really hear the end of her sentence. The words were all blocked out, just leaving the rise and fall of her voice ringing in his ears. His breathing quickened.

"Uh...hello?" He realized he hadn't spoken yet, and shook himself.

"Willow..." He couldn't say anything else.

"Oz, do you want me to speak to her? I'm willing to...it's really no big deal." Without looking over, Oz could tell that Buffy was fidgeting and wasn't actually ready to take the call. Besides, he had already spoken. He shook his head and felt her go still.

"Oz? Is that really you?" Willow sounded as if she thought it was a prank.

"Yeah. Hi." 

"Hi." There was an awkward silence. "So...what's up?"

"I'm actually calling about...Buffy." He looked to his left and saw the woman in question toying with her hair.

"How did you hear?" Willow was speaking quietly, but Oz realized that there was something different about her voice. The old lilt of it was faded, and even her question was voiced forcefully. 

"It's a long story."

"Okay." Willow didn't press for details. "Sorry we didn't call you about the funeral...it's not like we have your number or anything. It wasn't anything big though. We have to keep the demons convinced that she's still around...which is also a long story."

"I understand." Oz was reluctant to come right out with his good news, for some reason. 

Buffy started tapping her foot. Not being able to hear the other end of the conversation was infuriating. 

"Did you hear exactly what happened?" Willow's voice brought his focus back to the phone.

"Yeah," Oz said, deciding that the short version--and the longer version he would get from Buffy later--was the way to go. 

"It's so weird that you should call now, today. Today is the first day that she seems really, well, gone. Since it was a mystical death, I had thought that maybe we could reverse it mystically. Bring her back to life." It suddenly occured to Oz that the conversation was no longer really about Buffy. "I found this great spell, and it took a while to get all the ingredients together..."

Oz cut Willow off.

"I'm sorry, but...is Giles there?"

"No, he actually just left for England. Gave his shop...did you know he had a shop?...to Anya, said there was nothing keeping him here anymore. My spell would have kept him here too, if it had worked. He would have had something to stay for. Anyway, so I was explaining the spell. We got all the ingredients. And Tara and Anya and Xander helped...we couldn't tell Giles or Dawn, they'd be all 'Oh, Willow, it's far too dangerous'...because it was really dangerous. I didn't really tell anyone how dangerous it was, but I guess it didn't matter. But I knew I had enough power to pull it off. It was pretty intense--I could feel it working. And a snake crawled out of my mouth! You should have seen it! But then some stupid demons came and broke the urn and the spell was completely messed up. And I knew I was doing it too. I was bringing Buffy back to life, out of whatever horrible hell dimension she's stuck in--it would have worked..." Willow took a breath. 

Oz had found it cute when she used to babble. If he blocked out the words again, he could almost imagine that he was listening to her ramble on about nothing at all. But it wasn't nothing at all. And she wasn't babbling--she was boasting. 

Oz knew he should tell Willow the truth: that her spell had worked, but Buffy had ended up in Paris, with him. Maybe Willow would be able to explain it. But he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"I just thought I'd check in. I have to go now." He was almost whispering.

"Okay, bye!" And Willow hung up. 

Slowly Oz straightened his neck and hung up the phone. He turned to Buffy.

Buffy looked at him, questioning.

*Why didn't he tell her?*

"What did Willow say?" she asked.   
**end five** 


	7. Part 6

Title: The French Connection  
Author: Lily  
Rating: PG to PG-13  
Spoilers: Bargaining, but really only part one  
Disclaimer: pshaw. not mine.  
Summary: Yes, the resurrection worked. But no, it didn't wake Buffy up where she last was (that part seems to have gotten messed up, no?)...  
Author's Note: *la la la* denotes Buffy thoughts  


Oz was silent. 

"Why didn't you tell her?" Buffy didn't get it.

"I thought I should ask you first..." Oz looked at her.

"Oh. Well...what did she say? How is she? How's everyone?"

"I think they're dealing. She didn't really say. But she kind of explained how you got here."

"She did?" Buffy was even more surprised. If Willow knew how, how couldn't she know that Buffy was alive? 

"Yeah."

Buffy waited, but Oz said nothing. "Well what did she say?"

She waited some more, wondering if talking to Willow had really been such a good idea for Oz.

"I have to ask you a question," he began. "This place where you were between Sunnydale and here. The place that you said was beautiful. Where were you?"

Buffy quickly looked away from him and he didn't have to wait for her answer. 

"I'd rather not talk about it. What did Willow say?"

"Was it a hell dimension?"

"I said I'd rather not talk about it, Oz." She stared right at him, and, since Oz had never been one to push for anything, she was surprised when he persisted.

"It wasn't, was it?"

"No, Oz, it wasn't..." she sighed, "but I really don't see what that has to do with anything at all, and now that I've told you this fact, even though I told you repeatedly that I don't want to talk about and it still doesn't have any relevance whatsoever, will you please tell me what she said?"

"She said a lot." Oz was still looking at her, but he was distant, remembering his conversation with Willow.

"Thanks, helpful-boy," Buffy countered, quickly and sarcastically, before standing. She walked to the door and turned around to look at Oz again. "You said she knows how I got here." Buffy started pacing. Walking to and from the door, she continued. "How would she know? I mean, it just doesn't make sense. Last night I seem to have, I don't know, fallen from the Eiffel Tower or something, when I was under the distinct impression that I had died. I was perfectly happy dead, really. And before you even tell her that you found me wandering the streets of Paris, she knows how I got there? How is that possible? Did you call her while I was sleeping? No, you didn't know the number. How did she know about some freak accident with fate, or the grand designs of the Powers That Be, or whatever it was, before you told her?"

Buffy stopped walking.

*A freak accident...*

*Or not.*

"Oz?"

"Yeah?"

"It wasn't a freak accident...or grand designs...or anything, was it?" Her bandaged hands shook slightly as she sat back down on the bed.

"No." 

"Tell me." She stared at the wall and listened to him explain.

"They thought, in Sunnydale...they assumed that you were in a hell dimension. They wanted to get you out. They thought, Willow thought, that since you didn't die naturally that it would be possible to bring you back. They did the spell last night. From what Willow said, it sounded like some pretty heavy stuff...it took a while for them to get the ingredients together. But demons interrupted the spell and broke an important urn. They all thought that the spell failed." He paused. "Apparently successful. I can't figure out how you ended up here in particular, but..."

She cut him off. "It's how I died. I fell from a tower."

"...and so you ended up here when the spell got messed up. I guess it makes some kind of sense."

"So they...Willow...brought me back here?"

"Yeah. Are you okay?"

Buffy finally took her eyes off of the wall. She looked up at him and asked quietly, "they won't know if we don't tell them for a little bit, right?"

"No. We can wait."

She reached out a took his hand, but looked at the wall again.

"Good."  
**end six** 


	8. Part 7

Title: The French Connection  
Author: Lily  
Rating: PG to PG-13  
Spoilers: Bargaining, but really only part one  
Disclaimer: pshaw. not mine.  
Summary: Yes, the resurrection worked. But no, it didn't wake Buffy up where she last was (that part seems to have gotten messed up, no?)...  
Author's Note: *la la la* denotes Buffy thoughts  


"So, I promised you a toothbrush." Oz was putting the rinsed mugs back in a cupboard. Buffy looked at him blankly from the couch.

"Huh? I mean, sorry. I kind of zoned out."

"I promised you a toothbrush." Finished in the kitchen, he sat down in the chair opposite the sofa. He reached under the chair, pulling out a pair of Dr. Marten's, and began to put them on. "Want to come out with me or just hang here?"

"I think some fresh air might do me good," Buffy said resolutely, but frowned when she saw her shoes, "and I could use some comfy-er shoes."

"I don't really think they though you'd be walking around in those."

"Yeah, well, they should know better in Sunnydale." The injured slayer winced as she slipped on the fancy dress shoes. She rubbed her ankles with her hands, rebandaged more lightly thanks to her speedy healing process, and stood. "Let's go."

"Let's."

It was a Saturday morning and the streets were packed. The noise frightened Buffy at first and she held tightly to Oz's arm.

"You okay?" he asked with concern.

"I'm okay. It's just a little noisy, not bad, but it takes getting used to after all that quiet."

"As long as you're okay, because you could go back and just tell me your shoe size..."

"No. Absolutely sure. I can't stay inside forever. What's done is done, and I've got to get used to the noise, and the shadows, and the hardness..." She patted his arm with her free hand and looked around. "See? I'm all with the adjusting. Healthy attitude and whatnot."

"Gladness." Oz had stopped in front of a clothing store. "I bet we can find you something here. Shoes, clothes for however long you're staying."

"I don't know. It figures they didn't bury me with my wallet." The slayer frowned.

"No problem. I can spot you."

Buffy looked at him skeptically.

"Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but do you even have a job, Oz?"

"Yeah. Well, kind of. Not a consistent one. But I make enough. I found out the hard way that moving around the world whenever you feel like it isn't cheap. Don't worry about it."

Two hours and three shopping bags later, Buffy and Oz sat at a table in the same cafe where Oz had been sitting the night before. The slayer peered at Oz over the rims of her brand new sunglasses. He was staring at the street and hadn't touched his food.

"Earth to Oz..." she taunted.

He looked at her, one eyebrow raised in question.

"What's up?"

"People watching," he explained.

Buffy put down her fork and turned to look at the street. After a few minutes, she turned back to Oz. "This is interesting?"

"I think so." He grinned. "And you better thank your lucky stars that I do."

"Very true."

The waiter approached their table and placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of Buffy. She smiled her thanks, not wanting to abuse the French language with her accent. She picked it up in both hands and took a sip. A wide smile spread over the slayer's face, and she closed her eyes.

"Heaven..." she whispered, but quickly opened her eyes. She put the mug back on the table and took a quick sip of water. "I mean...really good coffee. But I'm not really in the mood for coffee anymore. Do you want it? No, of course not. I mean, you don't drink coffee anymore. Unless you changed your mind in the past few hours. Which I'm sure you didn't... Not like I'd give up Heaven. Just...coffee."

He looked at the coffee for a few long seconds and then up at her with intersity. "Willow said you were in hell." He paused. "You weren't."

Buffy looked away, "Yeah I was, of course I was. Very fiery and hot. I mean, why wouldn't I be?"

"You were in heaven." Oz's eyes were full of emotion. He knew. He'd figured it out in a few seconds. She should have expected as much from Oz. He had never missed a beat in all the time she'd known him, and it figured that a few years wouldn't change that.

Buffy couldn't meet his eyes. "What's done is done, Oz." She finally looked up. "Let's not talk about this."  
**end seven** 


	9. Part 8

Title: The French Connection  
Author: Lily  
Rating: PG to PG-13  
Spoilers: Bargaining, but really only part one  
Disclaimer: pshaw. not mine.  
Summary: Yes, the resurrection worked. But no, it didn't wake Buffy up where she last was (that part seems to have gotten messed up, no?)...  
Author's Note: *la la la* denotes Buffy thoughts  


It was early tuesday morning and Oz was woken up by gentle pressure on his left foot and the very distinct smell of Buffy.

"Move your feet," he heard her mumble through his haze of sleep. He bent his knees, allowing her a space on the end of the sofa, and closed his eyes again. The cushions moved with her weight as she sank down and rested her head on the curve of his knees. Her breathing was steady and he began to drift off again, lulled by the rhythmic up and down of her ribcage on his feet. 

"Oz?" He heard her question but didn't open his eyes.

"Hmmm?"

"This feels so wrong..." she whispered.

He lifted his head to look at her with concern. "Do you want me to move my feet more?"

"No, you're a great pillow. Lie back down; it's more comfortable." He settled down and waited for her to continue. "I mean the...secrecy. Don't you feel kind of guilty? Knowing that I'm here, but just avoiding home and everybody there? It's like harboring a fugitive or something. Not to mention Angel. I feel horrible not telling him..."

"First of all, you're not a fugitive."

"Oz," she sounded exasperated, "I'm being serious."

"So am I." He sighed before going on. "And I promise we'll deal with it, do whatever makes you feel better. Okay?"

"Yeah," she whispered. He could feel her breathing shallow out slowly and was asleep himself not long after.

Three hours later, more pressure on his feet woke Oz up. But this time it wasn't gentle nudging. It was full-grown, albeit petite, slayer lying on his lower limbs and snoring lightly. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was still relatively early. Carefully, he extracted his legs from under her and went to make himself a cup of tea. When it was done, he sat down in the chair opposite the sofa and began to read the copy of Le Monde from the day before that had been on the coffee table. It wasn't long before he felt Buffy's eyes on him.

Looking up, he saw that she hadn't moved from her place on the couch. If her eyes had not been wide open, he doubted that he would have known that she was no longer asleep. Still not moving her body, she blinked very slowly. 

"We'll have to wait a few hours, won't we? Before they wake up in California." 

He nodded. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please," she whispered. Oz made her the coffee. He didn't have to ask how she wanted it--milk and sugar. When he brought it back she was sitting up. She took the mug from him and asked, "Who should I call first?"

"Not my call," Oz responded as he sat back down, this time next to her on the couch, "but if it were, I'd call Angel...if I were you."

"But doesn't that seem weird to you? He's so much a part of the past."

"I know, but I'd call Willow. No question about it, even if she's the past."

Buffy sighed. "And it will be easier to talk to Angel too. Considering the circumstances..."

"Then it's settled."

It was almost five minutes before Oz spoke again.

"You know, Buff, I really don't think he'll mind if you wake him up."  
**end eight** 


	10. Part 9

Title: The French Connection  
Author: Lily  
Rating: PG to PG-13  
Spoilers: Bargaining, but really only part one  
Disclaimer: pshaw. not mine.  
Summary: Yes, the resurrection worked. But no, it didn't wake Buffy up where she last was (that part seems to have gotten messed up, no?)...  
Author's Note: *la la la* denotes Buffy thoughts  


Oz picked up the paper again and began to read it in his usual order, arts before the front section. However, he was having trouble concentrating. He wasn't really worried about how Buffy and Angel would sort things out, but more about the call to Sunnydale. Shaking his head, he put down the paper and picked up Buffy's half-done coffee. It was cold and he threw the rest down the sink before putting the mug in the dishwasher. He was staring at the wall, lost in thought, when Buffy came back in. 

"Oz?"

He jumped slightly, surprised. "Oh, how did it go?"

Buffy sighed and shrugged her shoulders, hopping up on the counter next to the sink, across the small kitchen from where Oz stood. "Angel and I were never really phone people. I could talk for hours on end to just about anybody, but I don't think I've talked to Angel on the phone for more than a few hours total since I've known him. It went pretty much how I expected it to go."

He raised an eyebrow.

She raised one back and held his gaze for a few seconds before smiling. "And I didn't wake him up."

"That's good, because, you know, that's what I was most concerned about," he replied wryly, with a smile to match hers.

"You mock, but you haven't seen Angel when he's just been woken up."

"Can't say I've had the pleasure." Oz smirked.

"Anyway, despite us not being phone people, I'm going to call him whenever I get back. Have a lengthier discussion...possibly not on the phone."

"Sounds like a plan," Oz's tone turned lower as he continued, "So...how did he sound?"

The slayer stared at him for a few moments, as if gauging how in depth an answer he wanted before dropping her eyes. "Pretty shook up. Apparently he went off for a few months right after he found out, looking for balance or something. Coping. He just got back a few days ago. And now he finds out I'm not dead after all. That's got to be a shock too--finally dealing with something only to find out that it was kind of unnecessary. Can you imagine that?" 

She looked up when he didn't respond. He wasn't looking at her, and his eyebrow seemed to not know what it should do. When he met her eyes, she blushed deeply.

"Oh," she muttered, "of course you can...I'm an idiot...I'm sorry...I didn't mean to..."

He cut her off. 

"It's never unnecessary, Buffy."

She gave him a small nod, still ashamed of her insensitivity. Oz had barely mentioned Willow since she had been there, and had seemed okay with talking to her on the phone, but he was obviously not completely over his past with her. 

Oz pushed up onto the counter on his side of the kitchen and sat directly opposite Buffy. The kitchen, like most of the apartment, was obviously made for one or two people living alone. It was small and narrow, and Oz had no trouble reaching his foot across to tap her knee. "Hey," he whispered, "don't worry about it."

He let his foot bounce back against the cabinets under the sink, a few steady thuds.

"So," he said, "you need a break before the next call?"

"I don't know. Maybe I should just get it over with. Don't you think? Or do you want to do something?" She began to mimic his earlier foot movements, banging her heels anxiously against the counter. "I'm not waiting all day until it's a reasonable hour there, might as well do it now, while it's still early enough that they might not have gone to sleep yet. Knowing our friends, they're still up...right?"

Reaching down, Oz grabbed one of her ankles on its way up. He smiled and gave her foot a comforting squeeze. "Go."

"Yeah. I will." Buffy jumped down off of the counter and left Oz sitting in the kitchen. 

She walked back into Oz's bedroom. She had made the bed after waking up that morning, but the comforter was mussed from her sitting on it and fidgeting while talking to Angel. She sank into the spot that was indented farthest, where she had been sitting the longest. With a deep breath, she picked up the phone from the bedside table and put it in her lap.

She paused before dialing, not sure where to call. Magic Box?

*Too late for that.*

Picking one, she punched in the international code and then her home phone number. It rang three times and she was about to give up when she heard the sound of the receiver being lifted off the hook. Her breath caught in her throat.

"Hello?" It was an exhausted Willow. Buffy smiled. It was good to hear her again.

"Willow."

"Who is this?" Willow sounded more awake now, and very confused.

"Will, it's me," Buffy found herself whispering, as if her identity were a secret. "It's Buffy."

"Buffy? Who is this really?"

"Buffy."

Willow gasped, and there was a long pause before she murmured, "Oh my God..." Buffy heard a shriek of "Tara!" and waited for Willow to come back.

"Oh my God. Buffy, you're dead."

"That had been my understanding too..."

"Where are you? How did you get there? What happened? Where are you?" Willow was flustered, her voice raising with every question.

"Paris."

"What? You're in Paris? Buffy, how did you go from a hell dimension to Paris?"

"Actually, I was thinking you could help me with that one..." the slayer ventured, "I thought you did a spell..."

There was some shuffling and a loud beep. "Buffy? Are you there?" It was Willow, but she sounded farther away. "Tara's here. I put you on speaker phone."

"I'm here."

"Hi, Buffy." Tara's voice sounded like a whisper. "Congratulations."

*Congratulations? How ironic.*

"Hi, Tara. Thanks."

"You're welcome." There was a pause and Buffy could hear what sounded like Willow and Tara talking to each other. She could only hear snippets of their conversation.

"...the spell worked! she's..."

"...Paris...wrong place..."

"...why are you...it worked"

"...off by days...wrong..."

"Um, guys?" Buffy was almost yelling into the receiver. Not only did she feel bad about Oz's phone bill, but Willow had brought her back to life (without her permission) and was now ignoring her.

"Buffy! There was a spell, and, see, I thought it didn't work, but apparently it worked and just put you somewhere other than here because it was disrupted at the end. It was really a complicated spell. Not only was there a one-of-a-kind urn, but there were snakes! And it must have been even more messed up than that, because I did it almost a week ago, and you're only awake now."

"Yeah, must have been." Buffy didn't correct her friend.

"But..." Something seemed to be bothering Tara. "How did you know? That it was us?"

"Oh, Oz is living in Paris and he found me. He told me he had spoken to you and that you had told him about the spell," Buffy lied, "I'm calling from his apartment now"

There was silence on the other end and then a muffled Tara, not addressing Buffy. "You spoke to Oz?"

"How is he?" Willow asked, speaking into the phone, ignoring the question. "And what good timing! It was only about a week ago that he called. Kind of spidey-sense, don't you think?"

"He's good. And yeah. Weird."

"So when are you coming home?"

Buffy was about to make up an excuse for why she had to stay a few more days when she heard more shuffling on the other end of the line. When she heard a voice connected to the new noises, she stood up.

"Dawn?" Buffy was suddenly nervous.

"Oh God. Buffy."

"Willow," Buffy commanded, "take us off speaker."

Another loud beep, and then silence.

"Dawnie?" Buffy wondered if she had been imagining her sister's voice before.

"Oh, Buffy..." 

The slayer felt tears come to her eyes, but she held them back.

"I'm here, Dawn."

"Where's here?"

"Paris."

"How? How did you get there?" Dawn's voice had lost some of the disbelief, and her questions sped up. "When?"

"You'd better ask Willow, she can explain it better than I can." Buffy ignored the 'when,' feeling guilty that she had left her little sister alone for longer than was necessary.

"Buffy," Dawn spoke quieter now, but eagerly, "I knew you were going to come back. I knew it. And I never gave up for one day. I don't know what happened yet, but I knew I hadn't lost you. I don't know what I would have done if it hadn't been like that, but I was okay. Everyone took good care of me, Willow, and Tara, and Spike, and Xander, and Giles...but it was really because I knew that you wouldn't stay wherever you ended up, you wouldn't let whatever put you there win. You wouldn't give up on life like that. I knew that you'd come back, and you'd come right home, and...and we'd be a family again, Buffy."

Dawn was crying softly, but Buffy could only stare at the wall, occasionally offering a mechanical "shhhh." Real comfort was beyond her. 

*My family.*

They had brought her back to Earth, and now they were bringing her back to Sunnydale. Buffy was an adult and it was no longer an issue of what she thought she wanted. Want wasn't an issue. Dawn needed her. They all needed her. And so she would go home.

**end nine** 


	11. Part 10

Title: The French Connection  
Author: Lily  
Rating: PG to PG-13  
Spoilers: Bargaining, but really only part one  
Disclaimer: pshaw. not mine.  
Summary: Yes, the resurrection worked. But no, it didn't wake Buffy up where she last was (that part seems to have gotten messed up, no?)...  
Author's Note: *la la la* denotes Buffy thoughts. The RER is like the Metro. Thanks MUCHLY to Karen for the betaing and the pie threats.  


As airports go, Charles De Gaulle is pretty nice. Not "let's move in" nice, but a nice airport. That fact did not make Buffy anymore at ease. She and Oz had been sitting on the same bench right outside the security gate for almost three hours. After speaking with Dawn, Buffy had abruptly announced that it was time for her to go home. Oz didn't question--he offered her a backpack to put her clothes and toothbrush in (she had accepted the backpack but declined to pack the outfit in which she had arrived) and got on the RER to the airport with her.

They had booked her on the next flight to Los Angeles.

She had nothing to check and no desire to get to the gate more than an hour ahead of time, so they were waiting.

"I'm doing the right thing, aren't I, Oz?"

"About what?"

"I don't know. They whole thing. Going home now, deciding not to tell them about when I came back or...where I was, everything."

"Does it feel right?"

Buffy smirked at Oz. "Do you ever answer a question?"

"I've been known to."

Buffy lifted an eyebrow without answering. He only smiled back before turning to watch the people standing in line to check their baggage. 

Thump. Thump-th-thump. Thump. Thump-th-thump.

Oz looked down at Buffy's feet; bright European sneakers banged restlessly against the bench. The slayer noticed that his attention had shifted and stopped her feet.

"God, Oz. How did you live with me?"

"I managed," he said with another smile, "but good thing you're leaving, or else I might have gone absolutely insane." A pause. "Sarcasm."

"I got that." 

"Good. People don't always get it."

There was silence again, and it wasn't long before Buffy's heels were bouncing off the seat again. This time, instead of feeling his eyes on her, she felt his warm hand grasp hers from where it lay on the bench.

"Don't worry, Buffy. It'll all be okay," he whispered. And then he was standing. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Buffy looked up at him, completely confused.

"You've got to get to the gate."

"Now?"

"Soon."

"Oh." She looked down at the floor, willing herself not to cry so that she could look back up at her friend. "Oz...thanks doesn't even cut it..."

"Don't worry about it," he cut her off. "No thank yous here."

"Do you every worry about anything, Oz?"

"I worried about you," he said with a smile, "but not anymore. You're strong."

"Does anybody worry about you?" she asked softly.

"Maybe sometimes. But it's not necessary. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can. You're a big boy, Oz."

He chuckled and jerked his head towards the security checks. "Get a move on."

"Okay...I'll call you when I get to Sunnydale." It was getting harder not to let the tears escape.

"Good."

"And I'll check in with you. Let you know how it's working out. And to see how you are...because I know I'll worry, even if it's unnecessary."

"I'm flattered, Buffy. I don't know how much longer I'll be around here, but I'll leave a number where you can reach me when I go. Don't hesitate to call me if you need anything, or just to talk."

"I have a feeling I'm going to hold you to that." Buffy smiled and wiped at her right eye.

Oz opened his arms slightly and she stepped forward. They stood there, hugging, for a few moments. Then, as suddenly as they had moved together, they were both standing straight again. 

"I guess this is good bye." Buffy's voice was hoarse.

"We'll always have Paris." Oz smiled, and Buffy responded with a choked laugh. "Au revoir, Buff."

She nodded and turned around, getting into the security line. She passed through quickly and looked back to wave. Oz lifted his arm briefly and watched her walk away before sitting back down on the bench. 

He watched the people. Some walked very quickly; the ones with planes to catch. They walked with their heads down...probably more aerodynamic. Others walked in groups, speaking loudly in the French that you don't learn in school. The groups tended to take more time in getting places, and Oz had more time to study every face, from the ones in front that he could only think of as the alphas, to the quiet ones in back. The couples walked the slowest. Others just stood or sat, all alone, waiting for someone to show up.

Oz wasn't waiting for anybody. He sniffed the air for just a second, but there was no familiar scent followed by a shock of dirty, blond hair. 

It wasn't long before he stood. He had made a decision. It was time to move on. He'd call his friend about getting someone else to take care of the apartment, leave a message for when Buffy called. He didn't know where he was headed, but he knew he wouldn't be in Paris when the slayer reached California. There wouldn't be a number to be reached at, but that was okay. She didn't need him anymore.

His work here was done.

J'AI FINI. 


End file.
